


Haircut

by Yana of the Arcana (sad_goomy)



Series: Break and Repair [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Haircuts, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Julian is mentioned but won't actually make an appearance sry, Light Angst, Post-Break Up, it's ok Faust is cuter anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_goomy/pseuds/Yana%20of%20the%20Arcana
Summary: She figures maybe now, in the aftermath of a freshly broken heart, is the time to make a change. A little help from Asra doesn't hurt.





	Haircut

 

The scissors make one last cut before she sets them back on the counter. 

She bites her cheek, inspecting herself in the mirror. Try as she might to fix it, there's no undoing her shoddy handiwork. No matter how much she tousles and fusses, it's decidedly uneven. She lets out a sigh, not sure if she feels any better. 

The smell of a hearty stew wafts up from downstairs, permeating the bathroom and reminding her of Asra's presence. She gives her reflection a wry smile as she remembers what he said earlier tonight. 

 

 _I'll go make_ _us_ _dinner_ _, and Yana? Don't do anything rash._  

 

This may have been a little rash of her to do. 

Thinking back on it, she's been wanting to cut her hair ever since she entered the palace and agreed to help the Countess. Constantly braiding it is a hassle, and even with her bandana the unruly waves of black sometimes get in her eyes. If she's going to play an active role in the investigation of the Count's death, then she needs as little distraction as possible. 

The timing, however, might strike an outsider as a little convenient. 

 _Correlation,_  she argues,  _not causation._ A mere coincidence that the night she decides to cut off most of her hair is also the night that she's left heartbroken by a man she could see herself loving. It's nothing but sheer chance that after she watched him possibly walk out of her life forever, she decided to make a drastic change. 

Julian has nothing to do with this. 

She's not so sure that Asra will see it that way. 

Looking at herself and the choppy cut, though, she can no longer deny that whether or not this was a mistake, she needs a little help fixing it. Swallowing the last of her pride and preparing herself for the inevitable lecture, she calls out, "Asra!" She keeps her eyes closed as she listens to the footsteps on the stairs. His energy is warm but cautious, and she can feel it amplify as the bathroom door gently creaks open. 

He doesn't say anything for a long minute, prompting her to crack open an eye. She sees him in the reflection, standing in the doorway with wide eyes and lips fallen slightly open in surprise. Asra clears his throat as he surveys the scene. The scissors glint in the light, and he sees that she's had the foresight to collect the hair she's chopped into a silk bag in the sink. He opens his mouth to say something else but catches her eyes in the mirror and decides against it. From the grimace on her face, she knows every word that's running through his head, and she isn't a fan of a single syllable of it. 

"What happened?" 

She gives him a sheepish half-smile. "I might have done something rash." 

He can't resist teasing her. "Wouldn't be the first time, Yana." 

They share a sigh, and her eyes go to the bag that holds the remnants of her spontaneous decision. "It's uneven," she admits in a whisper. 

He takes a few steps closer until he's right behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she sees his arm reach out and pick up the scissors, examining them in the bathroom light. "Do you want me to fix it?" 

"Please." 

With no more than a hum, he sets to work. There's nothing but the snip of scissors to fill the air, and Yana keeps her eyes on the counter, waiting as the minutes pass and watching as Asra fills the bag with several more locks of her hair. When she can finally bring herself to look in the mirror once more, she realizes Faust has at some point arrived and wrapped herself around the magician's shoulders, watching Asra work. 

"You didn't do a bad job." 

"No?" She gives him an unconvinced frown. 

He looks at her reflection with a sympathetic smile. "Well, did you mean to cut it this short?" 

Her eyes finally go to her own reflection as she sees a decent haircut finally taking shape. Truthfully, it doesn't feel like her, and if she couldn't feel the cool marble of the counter under her palms, she might be convinced this is all a dream. The hair that remains on her head is still unruly in its waves, but now it barely brushes her shoulders, and it certainly looks more practical for someone serving as Countess Nadia's personal magician. 

"Not originally," she admits, nearly laughing as Faust tilts her head, seemingly confused at the sight of what's happening – or maybe she has just as many questions as her magician does. "But then I started, and it was...cathartic." 

Asra nods, taking a moment to step back and try to figure out his next move with the scissors. Once he's decided what to fix and how, he steps closer and the snip of the metal scissors begins once more, albeit slower than before. His voice, too, comes out slower, testing the waters. "I wasn't aware he had such an effect on you." 

Immediately she snaps at the insinuation, like a spring that's been coiled too tightly for too long. "He didn't. I couldn't care less – I just wanted the truth." 

Even Faust appears to disagree, and the snake seems to fix her with a knowing look just as Asra does. 

Yana knows when she's been caught, and her eyes go back to the counter as she shrinks in on herself. She hates this vulnerability, this feeling of being left open for the world to see. 

She hates the feeling of him leaving. 

"...I was never his," she mumbles, eyes cast downward as she holds herself, "And he was never mine." It's all that she can allow herself to admit, and in that moment Asra is reminded of just how small his apprentice really is. She's always been short, but the way her shoulders hunch and her spirit drops, she seems too tiny for this vast universe. But the moment is gone in a flash; she's known how unforgiving life is, and she's grown used to shoving what remains of her heart under layers of hardened cynicism. Her eyes flash with the familiar need to fight, and a spark of mischief. "I seem to recall him having an effect on you at one point." 

Asra rolls his eyes, nearly gagging at the suggestion, and it's enough to get a chuckle out of her. He smiles, going back to her hair and making a few small cuts before explaining, "He had an effect all right, and it effectively made me realize he's nothing but theatrics and martyrdom." 

"It also effectively got him into your bed." 

If Faust could giggle she'd be in stitches, but the sheer merriment in the snake's eyes coupled with Yana's smirk is enough to get Asra cringing. "We all make mistakes." 

 _He's not a mistake._  

Asra senses the thought and steers the conversation away from the argument they had not an hour ago when he felt a stab in his chest at the sight of her so heartbroken. "Besides, that was physical and nothing more," he tells her, dropping the last lock of hair into the bag, " _This_  seems to be something a little more complex." 

She doesn't argue – she can't argue. Still, she keeps her lips pressed tight into a straight line, refusing to go back to that weakened state she's been fighting against since Julian walked away. Her eyes focus on Asra's in the mirror and sees a horrible flash of pity in his gaze that makes her want to scream. Before she can, he places a single hand on her shoulder, a calming energy radiating through her body. "It's okay to have feelings, Yana." 

The sentiment makes her stomach twist into a knot, but she hides it with a roll of her eyes (because they both know he's being a bit of a hypocrite). "I'm aware." 

"So why won't you allow yourself?" 

"Life hurts. I move on." She fixes him with a look of a past they both know was never happy, and she sighs, "What else is there to do?" 

He doesn't know. There are still nights when he can see her in the midst of a nightmare, or days when she seems trapped in a memory of her life before she came to Vesuvia. Those memories that were too powerful, that escaped him, that remind them both that she has a history of losses. Tonight seems like another reason for her to believe history has a habit of repeating itself. 

They sit with the silence for a moment, until Faust decides she wants a change in mood and moves herself closer to Yana's face, examining her hair in the mirror.  _Pretty!_  

"Thank you," the apprentice chuckles, and as Asra steps back, she runs a hand through her hair, feeling some final tension in her chest release when her fingers so quickly meet the empty air. She gives her head a few experimental tosses, marveling at how easily her hair now bounces and sways with the movement. With some final fussing in the mirror, she admires the way her hair frames her face in a slightly different perspective. 

"I take it you like it?" 

"Immensely." 

His eyes flicker to the bag in the sink, now filled to the brim with hair. "Now what to do with all this?" 

Yana gives a shrug. "Sell it?" Though it shimmers considerably less once cut, there's still no denying the old magic that runs through it. Hair from a Fallen Star could fetch a pretty penny with the right merchant who knows its worth. 

Asra shakes his head. "That would put you at risk of someone using it against you." 

She opens her mouth to scoff at danger, to tell him that she's always a fan of a little risk, but then her voice stops working and her throat tightens. It reminds her just a little too much of Julian, just a little too much of all the hurt that, try as she might to deny, still makes her heart clench with each memory. Turns out a hasty haircut can't also cut away the hurt (though to be fair, it also helps foster that sense of change and rebirth that she's always relied on to get by). 

"We can store it with the other personal ingredients for now," Asra suggests, brows furrowing at her silence. 

Yana simply nods, pulling the drawstrings of the bag tight and wrapping it with a locking spell, watching the bag give off a green glow that quickly subsides. As she lifts the bag out of the sink, she turns and gives Asra a small smile. "Thank you, by the way." 

He mirrors her smile, but somehow, it's warmer, stronger, steadier. "Of course. Now come on, dinner's getting cold." 

 _Hungry!_  

"So sorry to keep you waiting, Faust," the apprentice apologizes, giving the serpent a scratch under the chin. As they walk out of the bathroom and back down the stairs, she feels her head and her heart growing lighter with each step. It's the beginning of a path she knows well, of tamping emotions down and soldiering on ahead with a heart of stone. 

"Actually, do you know any spells off the top of your head that need hair and could possibly give an ex a gnarly hangover before you confront them?" 

Then again, maybe it's all right to have emotions.  

Just this once. 

 


End file.
